Costume Shop
by Nightowl445
Summary: "You're probably wondering how I got into the business of sewing elaborate costumes for Gotham's Rogues; I'll tell you one thing, it wasn't by choice, but I don't entirely regret it. It has made my life very... interesting. My life wasn't always this way of course; I had a normal life, until that day my boss got a call asking for a green blazer, and everything changed..."
1. Chapter 1: Unusual Colors

_This is my first attempt at a Batman fic, I hope it's okay!_

_I do not own Batman: The Animated Series, the Riddler, the Joker, or any other recognizable characters from the series. _

_Anyway, on with the story!_

* * *

**Prologue**

_4:00 AM_

The first orange streaks of sunrise have just begun to appear over Gotham city's smog-coated skyline, and though the occasional shout or screech of tires rings out through the streets, the city is otherwise silent.

I sit at a desk running a piece of green fabric under the needle of an old sewing machine which ticks and whirrs delightedly. I work diligently but carefully, not wanting to get one of my long fingers caught under the rapidly punching needle. Someone wraps three times on the door, "hang on a second!" I call out, I turn off the sewing machine, rush to the door and look through my apartment's peephole, I immediately recognize the face. "Two minutes, I just need to finish the cuff!"

"Be quick about it!" The voice snaps back. I rush to the sewing machine and put the final touches on the jacket's sleeve. I turn off the sewing machine and lift the needle from the fabric. I turn the coat right-side out and survey my handiwork. It looks good to me, the stitches are small and even, and they don't crisscross knot in any places, I, or rather my client, is good to go. I hang the jacket on a black hanger and place it inside a plastic suit bag. I open the door and hand the bag to the man on the other side, "Mr. N-" I quickly correct myself "_Edward, _here's your jacket, as promised." He had reduced the right sleeve to ribbons and almost torn it off entirely in some heist or another, and I had been hired to sew it back in place.

He retrieves the sleeve from the bag and inspects it, satisfied, he hands me a thick envelope with my name scrawled across the front of it. "Pleasure doing business with you Sarah,"

"You as well" I quickly reply before he shuts the door in my face. I almost chuckle, _what, no riddle? Not even a quip? _I think amusedly, _you must really be in a rush, Eddie. _I open the envelope and among the dollar bills a thin white slip of paper sticks out. I pull it out, it reads;

_From the beginning of eternity_

_ To the end of time and space_

_ To the beginning of every end_

_ And the end of every place._

_ What am I?_

A small smile spreads across my lips "the letter 'e'" I mutter, counting the money in the envelope; three hundred dollars for a repair. "You haven't changed a bit, Eddie …" a great yawn escapes my lips, it's then that I realize just how tired I am. I pick up the cash and the note and walk to my room, stashing it in a steel safe in the corner along with the rest of it. I unbutton my blouse and unzip my skirt, letting them fall to the floor and, not bothering to change into nightclothes, slip into bed.

Yeah, that's right. My client is the Riddler, well, not my only client but my oldest. I've made costumes for other rogues as well but he's the only rogue I've gotten to know at all, as such he's by far my favorite; probably because he's one of the only criminals in this cesspool of a city who I know well enough to tell with reasonable certainty what his intentions are. All the same, I keep a baseball bat next to the bed for a reason, not that it would help much if the Joker decides to spray me with laughing gas.

Yep, I said the J-word. I've tailored a suit for the Joker as well, and I don't plan on doing it again; _if _I can avoid it.

I open my eyes; I know I won't be able to get to sleep today.

_Brrrrrrring! _I quickly pick up the phone "hello?" I groan,

"Good Morning, are you Sarah Valens?" Asks a throaty voice,

"Yeah, that's me. Sarah Valens, custom formal wear, may I ask who is calling?"

"You may call me… the Destroyer"

I stifle a groan, another wannabe Gotham-Rogue, I run into a lot of those in my line of work_. Destroyer, huh? How original… _"How may I help you, Mr. Destroyer?"

"I need a disguise" he says, "and I hear that you're the best of the best when it comes to disguises."

"What do you have in mind?" I ask, pulling out a notepad.

"Well, I deal in explosives, so I was thinking, lots of red." I scribble the word, _red_ into the notebook. "What shape do you want?" I ask, pretending to be interested.

"Classic." He replies, I write the word _cat-suit _on the page. I spend the next hour asking him about details, such as measurements, whether or not he wants a hood, and many others. When he's finally finished jabbering about how he's going to outdo the Joker, I ask him when he wants it ready, to which he replies "take a week if you must" and hangs up. I look at the basic sketch on the page; he essentially wants me to make him look like a pot-bellied stick of dynamite, complete with thin black wires on the hood. _I'll get working on this one later, _I think, staring up at the ceiling.

I know you're probably wondering how I got into the business of sewing elaborate costumes for renowned criminals; I'll tell you one thing, it wasn't by choice, but I don't entirely regret it. It has made my life very interesting. My life wasn't always this way of course; I had a steady 9-5 job, a tiny apartment and a normal life, until that day when my former boss got a call asking for a green blazer. I'll never forget it for as long as I live.

* * *

**Chapter One:**

** Unusual Colors**

It was a chilly Thursday morning in Gotham City. The little roadside shop where I worked was pleasant, in a vaguely familiar but utterly forgettable sort of way. It was a cozy, white-washed building with tall, square windows, a blue roof and a sign tacked above the door which read;

_Hallward's;_

_Formal wear, consignment, and alterations._

The shop was located in the southern end of Gotham; it wasn't in the best part of town but it was by no means the shadiest, and we had only been robbed twice that year; by Gotham standards, not too shabby. Business was, as usual, slow, and I was measuring a plus-sized woman for a dress while my boss, Roscoe Peabody, continuously counted the profits and occasionally answered the telephone.

I circled the measuring tape around her left arm, "watch it!" She snapped, swatting me in the shoulder. I hurriedly muttered "sorry, Mrs. Merkle" before jotting down her measurements on the clipboard. Over Mrs. Merkle's string of complaints, I could hear Mr. Peabody schmoozing over the phone. I tried to hide my annoyance.

Mr. Hallward's name might have been above the door, but Mr. Peabody had been in charge of the shop for nearly six years. Cyrus Hallward was Mr. Peabody's father-in-law-by-second marriage, or maybe it was his fourth or sixth marriage, I had never been able to keep track of all of his brief, unhappy marriages.

I stared distastefully at his black suit, _Louis Vuitton, _I thought, _he barely has enough money in the till to give me my paycheck every Friday, but he can come to work in a designer suit. _Either he had inherited a large sum of money, won big in the lottery, or had earned the money illegitimately. I was going with the third choice. I considered my own attire, a light pink, pleated maxi skirt and a pale blue button-up blouse. It was from the consignment section of the store and even though I had gotten an employee discount it was still overpriced.

"Well Mrs. Merkle, I think we're finished here!" I said, jotting down her waist measurement, and being careful not to let her see. Mrs. Merkle stepped down from the platform and handed me a one dollar bill, "thanks, kid." She grunted, before walking to the desk and waiting impatiently for Peabody to get off the phone. He finally did and she paid with a hastily written check. She placed a dress bag on the table before walking out of the shop, she had asked me to let the waist so she could wear it again. I pulled the dress out of the bag, it was a floor length evening gown made of black fabric with zebra print sleeves and an empire waist. It looked as if it at least had _some _elastic in the waist line, _it shouldn't be that hard to let_ I thought.

"Sarah!" Barked Mr. Peabody as I went to hang the dress in the back room,

"Yeah?" I replied, cringing at the state of his breath.

"Have you finished with John Burke's order?"

"Repairing a tear? Finished it yesterday." I replied from over my shoulder,

Mr. Peabody grinned, "Good girl" he cooed as I left the room.

I shut the door to the walk-in-closet behind me. _Good girl, _I thought, shaking my head: Mr. Peabody could go from being your best friend to your worst nightmare in two seconds flat; it was a bit of a bad habit of his. I slotted Mrs. Merkle's dress into the section marked _M_ and began to walk out, it was a good thing we weren't getting too many customers, as at the moment I was Peabody's only employee. I checked my watch; _12:00, time for my lunch break, _I thought gleefully. I opened the door from the back room and stepped back into the store. Mr. Peabody was on the phone again, but this time he wasn't just chatting.

"A blazer?" He asked the caller, clenching and un-clenching his fist, "well of course I…how much money!?" Greed flickered before his eyes; I retrieved my coat and bag, pretending not to listen. "Great, how do you want it to look?" He pulled out a note-pad, "mhmm…yep…uh-huh… green?" He asked, my head shot up on impulse; _green? It's not every day someone asks you for a green blazer, _I thought, intrigued.

"…Okay, what shade of green? …Pants as well? …Gray slacks, alright. And when can you come in to get measured?" ...You can't? …Well, I suppose you could tell me your measurements but I can't guarantee it will fit just right…" Peabody muttered to himself as he jotted down a string of numbers. "Wonderful…three days!" He shouted, at this point he saw me waiting for him, he apologetically mouthed the words "one moment" at me before returning to his conversation. "…Sure, she's good, but I'm short staffed and I'm not sure about…fine. I'll have your order ready for you as soon as possible." He abruptly hung up the phone.

Mr. Peabody massaged his temples, "Sarah, my girl" he said flatly, I nodded my head expectantly. "Do you know how to sew a blazer?"

"From scratch?_" _I asked,

"Yes Sarah, from scratch" he said, unblinkingly. "A customer has offered us a fair sum of money to make him a custom suit in, erm, _unusual _colors."

"Hang on a second; you want me to sew a green blazer and gray slacks in _three days!" _I shouted, exasperated,

"Listen Sarah" he fumbled with his cufflinks "this customer is a…friend of mine, and I'd really hate to let him down."

A long pause followed by the word "friend"; Gotham-speak for "dangerous person who I happen to know personally."

"Understood" I finally muttered, no sooner had the words come out of my mouth than a shopping list was stuffed into my hands, "before you come back from lunch, go out to the fabric store on McLaughlin Street and buy everything on this list, bring me the receipt and I'll reimburse you." He pounded his fist on the table, "this will be your _only _job for the next three days, I'll handle fittings and everything else, you'll just sit in that back room and sew, understand?"

I nodded, "good, now head off to lunch, you'll be working hard this afternoon." He said, practically shoving me out the door. I thought I heard him mutter, "I hope I can find another set of hands." I strode down Dennison Avenue, a frown plastered onto my face, wondering, _what kind of person would urgently need a green blazer in three days?_

…

The back room of Hallward's was stuffy, claustrophobic, and dark. A tiny window on the left wall was the only view of the world outside, and led out to a dark, smelly alley; a little white analog clock hung from the wall next to it. Plastic poles for hanging articles of clothing were nailed to each wall; most of them were nearly empty. At the back of the room was an antique Singer sewing machine and a naked light bulb hung from the ceiling on a thin piece of wire.

Mopping the sweat from my brow, I looked up at the clock, _3:45; _I had been sitting at the sewing machine for nearly two hours. Next to me was a black trash bag filled with supplies; a large bolt of emerald green fabric, thin black fabric for the inner lining, gray cotton for the pants, spool after spool of thread, pins, needles, a tape-measure and portions of a pattern. I ran the delicate black thread under the sewing machine, careful not to tear it. _Click, click, click, _went the tired old machine, humming along placing stitches into the fabric when suddenly, _zzzt! Zzzt! Zzzt! _I looked down to see what was wrong and groaned; the thread was tangled. _Brrrring!_ I sighed, fishing my cellphone out of my purse and raising the boot of the sewing machine with the other. I answered the phone and, setting it to speaker, got back to work "can it wait, Vikki?" I asked, all the while carefully trimming the thread so the needle wasn't stuck anymore, "I'm really busy."

"Is that slave-driver Peabody making you work overtime again?" Asked the husky, female voice.

"Shh!" I scolded "you're on speaker!"

"Oh, sorry" she said, lowering her voice to a barely audible whisper.

Vikki Cummings was my roommate; she worked at a hotel on the other side of Gotham. Despite our differences she and I had been good friends since High School. Needless to say, Mr. Peabody was a topic of great discussion in our small household. "It's actually a strange job, I'll tell you about it later. What's the matter?"

"Oh, it's just…Dylan."

I tried desperately not to groan, Dylan was Vikki's deadbeat boyfriend, they had been dating for nearly a year and she always had some problem with him or another. "Did he propose to you?" I asked, trying to sound hopeful.

"If only" sighed Vikki, "I don't know what to get him for his birthday, and it's in two days! What do I do?"

"He's your boyfriend, hon" I said, gritting my teeth as I turned the piece of fabric. "Listen Vikki, I'm really, really busy. I'll explain later, can we talk about this once I get home?"

"…Okay" said Vikki,

"See you later!"

Vikki was the first to hang up. I sighed and went back to my work, _4:00_ I thought, looking up at the clock. I was nowhere near finished, not even with the lining. _What have I gotten myself into? _I thought; _zzzt! Zzzt! Zzzt! _I groaned; the needle was stuck again.

* * *

**So, what do you think? Constructive criticism is always welcome, but please, no flaming.**

**I included the first chapter and the prologue here, but from now on it will be one chapter per page.**

**By the way, I have no idea what color the lining of the Riddler's suit is, or if it even has a lining, but let's assume that it does for this story.**


	2. Chapter 2: The Prince of Riddles

_Thanks for the GREAT reviews! _

_I'm really enjoying writing this and for once I'm not totally bogged down with school work, so I decided to post another chapter, in which we see a little more Riddler (Yay? Nay?). _

_Okay, here we go! _

* * *

**Chapter Two: The Prince of Riddles**

When quitting time finally came at 5:00, I was fried. A thin layer of sweat coated my skin. The thread had gotten tangled five times, I had been disturbed by Mr. Peabody asking about how to properly measure customers twice and my hands were numb, but I had finished the lining and was done with the left sleeve of the jacket. I stretched my fingers, sighing with relief as I did so. "Goodnight Sarah" said Mr. Peabody as I left, "and good work." I flashed him a brief smile before leaving the building. I wrapped my jacket tightly around myself; snow was beginning to fall on the city. I casually waited outside of "Leon's Grocery Store" for my bus, shivering. I heard the _crunch, crunch _of footsteps on new snow and I turned to see a red-haired man in a black jacket and khakis walking towards me. He casually glanced at the route number, nodded and stood next to me in silence. "Good evening" he finally muttered,  
"hello" I replied.

The screech of tires rang out across the street, "huh?" We both muttered. We walked to the edge of the sidewalk to take a look. A car barreled down the street, the occasional piece of green paper flew out of the back of the car, shrieking, unhinged laughter followed. "Whoa!" I shouted. The two of us jumped three feet in the air and in a split second I found myself on my rear end with my back against the front wall of the grocery store. A black, or perhaps purple car screeched by, knocking over the route sign and clipping the bumper of a red minivan before speeding away. I looked to my left to see the redhead splayed out next to me in a similar state, "Joker…" he growled.

"Well, that's Gotham city for you." I said, observing the gash that had formed on my knee.

"Are you alright?" The man exclaimed, getting to his feet,

"I'm fine, it's just a scratch" I said, he offered me his hand and helped me to my feet. "Thanks" I said as the bus pulled up to the stop. It was ironic; after all that mayhem the bus arrived as if nothing had happened.

"I'm Sarah, by the way" I said,

"It's a pleasure" he replied, we shook hands, "ladies first." He gestured to the open door of the bus.

"Evenin'" grunted the bus driver as I paid my fare.

I sat down in a seat at the back of the bus and stared out the window onto Gotham's streets. I had always liked snow, not heavy blizzards, but light flakes of snow; they were beautiful against the night sky. Fifteen minutes later the bus pulled up at my stop outside the small apartment building where I lived. As I got up from my seat I realized that even though the bus hadn't made any stops until now, I was the only passenger on the bus, the man in the black jacket was nowhere to be seen. _Huh_ I thought, _that's right, he never told me his name.._. "Weird" I muttered, stepping off the bus into the cold night air.

I walked in through the double doors of the small apartment building, waved at the receptionist and climbed the many flights of stairs to my apartment on the 10th floor; technically our building had an elevator, but it hadn't worked in weeks, leaving all of the occupants to use one of the three sets of stairs. I finally reached my apartment, room 1035, and unlocked the door. "Hello?" I called as I entered; a thin blonde head peered out from the kitchen. "Hi, Sarah! How was your day?"

"Almost got run over by the Joker, how was yours?" I sniffed the air, the smell of boiling water hung heavy in the room, "Vikki, are you cooking?"

"I'm just making us some pasta; it'll be ready in a second!"

_Oh no_ I thought, Vikki was a good person, but she couldn't cook for shit, the last time she had tried to cook anything, we had to buy a new stove afterwards! I rushed into the kitchen and observed Vikki's handiwork, the lid was on the pot and water bubbled over the sides as Vikki pressed the lid down with two gloved hands, there was so much moisture in the air that mascara dribbled down the sides of her square jaw. "Vikki… just how long have those noodles been in the water?" I asked, not sure I wanted to know the answer, "umm…I don't know, about half an hour?"

"Vikki! You're only supposed to keep the noodles in the water for ten minutes!" I groaned, "Come on; let's get this thing off the stove!" Vikki quickly grabbed the colander as I carried the dripping pot over to the sink. She placed the colander in the sink and I dumped the whole mess into it, the two of us hacked and coughed as the smoke rose up from the sink. Many of the noodles slid through the holes in the colander, the noodles were mushy, practically dissolved, and totally inedible. My stomach rolled, "let's… just order some Chinese, shall we?"

…

"So, what's this about a weird job?" asked Vikki, stabbing a steamed dumpling with one of her chop-sticks. "Hmm?" I asked, looking up from my lo mein.

"The weird job" she said, stuffing her face with the dumpling, "when I called today, you said you had a weird job to do."

"Oh _that_." I said with a roll of my eyes, "Yeah, the boss got a call today from a customer, asking for a green blazer and gray slacks."

"Green?" Vikki cocked her head to one side, "that's an interesting color scheme."

"Very" I said, nodding "_and, _Peabody says that this customer is a 'friend' of his, so if I don't do well, I'll probably be fired." _Or get hurt, or worse if he's really crazy, _I mentally added.

"Your boss has some weird friends, sister." Grunted Vikki, she gasped, "Sarah! I need some advice" and before I could reply she pushed in her chair and rushed to the closet.

"O…K" I chuckled, leaning back in my chair, _what crazy mess has she gotten herself into this time? _I thought, crossing my arms. Vikki rushed back in with a small black shopping bag, "I couldn't decide whether to give the new Black Keys CD or the new Green Day CD to Dylan for his birthday; what do you think?"

I sighed "Vikki, I've only met the guy twice, how do you expect me to be able to make a decision about his birthday gift?"

"Oh, you're no help." Groaned Vikki, "I'm going to go with the Green Day one." I nodded and picked up my plate from the table and placing it in the dishwasher. "You want to dial up a movie?" asked Vikki, putting her dish next to mine, "no thanks, I'm going to bed, I'm exhausted!" I yawned.

"'Suit' yourself!" she shouted, cackling at her own joke,

"Goodnight!" I called, walking into the bathroom. I quickly brushed my teeth, let down my hair for the night and stepped into my bedroom. My room was nothing to write home about, it was about as big as a good-sized walk in closet. It had a bed, a dresser, and a single window, all I needed. I changed into a white nightgown and hopped under the covers, snuggling in against the cold night air, and fell asleep.

…

The next day passed by in a blur, all I could remember was the dark room and stitches, stitches, stitches. By the end of the day I was finished with the rough edges of the outer layer of the jacket, all I needed to do was sew in the lining, sew on the button, and finish it off: and I still needed to do the slacks.

When I walked into work the next day I found Mr. Peabody standing outside, beads of sweat rolling down his fat cheeks. "Sarah…are you almost finished with that order?"

"I'm almost finished with the jacket but I still need to do the pants." I replied, he grabbed me by my wrist and dragged me into the shop, "hop in there right now! The client's picking up his order tonight!"

"You haven't even told me the client's name!" I pointed out in protest,

"Move it! And don't come out until you're done!" He pushed me inside and slammed the door shut. I sighed with annoyance and walked over to the sewing machine. I decided I'd start with the pants. I pulled the gray fabric, scissors, fabric marker, and pattern out of the bag. I pinned the pattern to the reverse side of the fabric and drew in an indicator so that I had a clear outline of the slacks. Once I had cut the fabric out I placed it under the needle and began to sew, diligently, but quickly as always.

I was not interrupted by a phone call from Vikki this time, and I honestly wished I had been. About four hours of the way through I was just about finished with the pants when Peabody slammed opened the door, causing me to jump with surprise. "Are you done?" He demanded, marching into the room.

"Almost, I just need to finish the right leg and…"

"How long will that take?!" He roared,

"…Less than two hours" I replied with a raised eyebrow.

His shoulders relaxed slightly, "good. The client says he'll be here at about nine o'clock to pick up his order, you'll be finished by then, right?"

"Of course" I said, nodding my head.

Peabody gestured to the door, "then go on and take a nice lunch break, I know it's a bit late but you've earned it!"

I raised an eyebrow slightly, "…alright" I muttered, going to get my coat from the front closet. The phone at the front desk rang; Mr. Peabody rushed to answer it. "Hello?" I could tell who it was immediately by the look on his face "yes…of course! Almost finished, she says." There was a brief pause "excellent, see you tonight!" He hung up the phone, "he's looking forward to meeting you."

"Swell," I winced, before rushing out.

…

_8:50 PM_

By 8:50 I was long since finished with the strange order, and I never wanted to wear anything green again. I was again in the back room, but this time I was working on letting the waist of Mrs. Merkle's dress, happy to be working on something different. I heard the front door creak open, and two voices began talking.

Curious, I turned off the sewing machine so I could listen.

"…Evening, sir!" That was Mr. Peabody, _maybe this is the mysterious client he's been talking about. _I checked the clock on the wall, _he's early. _

"The same to you, Roscoe," the other voice sounded familiar, but I wasn't sure where from. "Shut the door!" He barked, causing me to jump. The door slammed shut,

"Now then, where is my order?"

"It's ready Mr. Nigma, don't you worry about it!"

"Then where is it, Roscoe?"

There was a very long pause, "Sarah!" Called Mr. Peabody, "Come out here a moment."

I cautiously opened the door, turned and shut it behind me, "yes, Mr. Peabody?" I asked, looking up at the small group in front of the door. I gave a little shriek when I saw who the leader was. He was fairly tall and broad-shouldered with red hair, a green bowler hat, a black cane, purple gloves, purple domino mask and a white tie with a purple question mark to top it all off. _Riddler… _I thought.

"Mr. Nigma," said Mr. Peabody with a hint of nervousness in his voice, "this is Sarah Valens, my seamstress. Sarah, I'd like you to meet Edward Nigma, though you may know him as the Riddler." He looked over to his left at me, I shrunk with his gaze.

I took little consolation in the fact that the Riddler was generally thought of as a 'gentler' rogue, as when you said that, you were comparing him to the Joker, who would kill you in some slow, complicated, and painful fashion, laughing as he did it, the Scarecrow, who would rather drive you insane with his fear gas than kill you, and Killer Croc, who allegedly ate people and chewed on their bones. So saying the Riddler was 'gentle' was really saying nothing at all.

He ogled me for a few seconds, and soon a smug grin tugged at the sides of his lips, "I believe we've met." He said, taking two steps towards me, "hello Sarah, how's your knee?"

_My knee? _I thought, my eyes widened _the man at the bus stop! _"It's…better thanks," I said, trying to hide my discomfort.

"Good" he turned to Mr. Peabody, "now about my order?"

"Oh… yes! Sarah, would you go fetch it?" He pleaded.

I gave a quick nod and rushed into the back room, I grabbed the slacks and jacket, but just before I reached the door I gasped; the left cuff of the jacket was crooked. "Just a second!" I called out,

"I don't have all night!" Replied Nigma from outside the door, cursing myself, I pulled Mrs. Merkle's dress out from under the sewing machine and, after picking the stitches out of the cuff, placed the jacket underneath instead. I sewed the cuff in place as quickly as I could, nicking one of my fingers on the needle in the process. I stifled a cry of pain, wiped the blood on my cardigan and finished off the sleeve.

I dressed the cut with a spare piece of black fabric and placed the jacket in a suit bag along with the pants. "Here it is!" I shouted, bursting through the door and almost crashing into the Riddler as I rushed out of the room.

Chuckling, he plucked the hanger from my hands, unzipped the bag, and inspected the jacket. He nodded his head slightly in cool approval, "very nice." He muttered, putting the jacket on over his black dress shirt, completing his ensemble. He turned to one of his goons, "Lawrence" he said with a snap of his fingers. A bald, bulky man trudged towards him, fished around in his pockets, and handed him an envelope, he then proceeded to offer it to me. I hesitantly took a hold of one corner of the envelope and attempted to retrieve it from him, but he didn't let go.

"Riddle me this" he said, bending down to my level. "The man who carved me doesn't want me, the man who bought me doesn't need me, and the man who needs me doesn't know it. What am I?"

I thought about it for what felt like a very long time, worried what he might do to me if I got the answer wrong. _Carved… _I thought _it's probably made of wood_ _then, what's a wooden thing that people need but no one wants, and when they need it they won't know it…_

"Uh…a coffin?" I squeaked.

"Which is exactly where_ you_ will find yourself if anyone finds out about this, do you understand?"

"Yes sir." I squeaked,

He smirked and let go of the envelope; I stumbled slightly as he did so.

"Well!" He said, placing his cane on the floor with a loud _crack! _"It's been a pleasure doing business with you Roscoe, I hate to run, but I have work to do." He turned around and began to walk out of the store, one of his goons held the door open for him, "oh, and one more thing, catch!" He tossed a small object at Mr. Peabody, he quickly grabbed it; it was a Rubik's cube. "See if you can't solve that." He said before the door slammed shut.

A relieved smile spread across Mr. Peabody's face, "Sarah, you did it!" He said happily.

I walked over the counter, "now, let's see what's in this thing." He muttered greedily, I tore open the envelope and sheet upon sheet of green paper spilled out. I gasped; I had never seen so many dollar bills in my life! "There's got to be thousands here!" I exclaimed, my eyes widening.

"Well" said Mr. Peabody pulling out a calculator, "he offered us 6000, let's see if he kept his promise."

_$6000, for a suit! _I thought, placing a hand over my mouth, _my best dress only cost me 65…_

"6,500 dollars!" He shouted triumphantly, he took five bills out of the pile. "Here, this is for you." He said, grinning from ear to ear. "No, no I don't want it!" I pushed his hands away; truly I didn't want anything that had belonged to Edward Nigma. "Come on, I insist!" said Roscoe, forcing the no-doubt dirty money into my hands. "Now you go on home and rest, you've earned your day off!" The next day was Sunday, we didn't open on Sundays. _Maybe I'll call in sick on Monday too. _I thought, "Okay" I said, "goodnight, Mr. Peabody." I said hurriedly before sprinting out the door.

I stood at the bus stop shivering, whether from cold or alarm I still don't know for sure. _The Riddler, I tailored a suit for the Riddler! _I thought as I stepped onto the bus and sat down in my usual seat. _Does that make me an aider and an abettor? _I thought, _well, Peabody knew who the client was and I didn't, but still… _

"Miss!" Shouted the bus driver,

"Yes?" I asked, breaking from my trance.

"This is your stop, isn't it?" We had pulled up outside my apartment,

"Oh… thanks!" I called out; skittering off of the bus and thanking heaven I had such an observant bus driver. I walked into the building and climbed the stairs, trying to act as normal as possible. I opened the door to the apartment and stepped inside, "Vikki?" I asked cautiously, "hi Sarah!" she called out. I stepped into the living room and found her sitting in an armchair, sipping a cup of coffee. "How'd it go? How much did you get paid?"

"five hundred dollars" I replied, slinging my coat over one of the chairs,

"WHAT!?" Shouted Vikki, spilling some of her coffee, I nodded my head in reply. "How much did he pocket from the deal?!"

"six thousand."

"Old miser!" She threw her arms back in exasperation,

"It's still more than I make in a month." I muttered, remembering Nigma's cryptic comment about not telling anyone.

Vikki grunted, unconvinced. "By the way" she said, retrieving something from the table next to her, "I found this on the door step." She held a small, square object up for me to see. I gasped; it was a Rubik's cube. _No… _I thought, _it can't be…_

"It had a note attached to it, it says: S, Try your luck! Signed, R." She mockingly pouted, "I'm mad at you Sarah, why didn't you tell me you had a secret admirer?" She laughed, "A really weird secret admirer, but still."

The room began to spin; _he knows where I live… _I thought, _oh God…_

"Are you okay, Sarah?" Asked Vikki,

"No…no…" I whispered, backing away from her. The Riddler's smug chuckle replayed in my mind, the room began to fade to white, my knees buckled, and my head slammed into the nearest wall. As the world around me slowly faded into silence, purple and green question marks danced before my eyes.

* * *

**I did a little research before writing this, and according to it, the price for a custom suit is at minimum 1,700 dollars or so (and that's assuming there is no shipping, purchasing, or handling cost involved); since he's a criminal I decided to place the price at 6000. **

**Please, feel free to review or PM me; I welcome constructive criticism, but please no flaming or trolling,( it doesn't help anyone). Thanks for reading! **


	3. Chapter 3: A Day of Rest?

_UPDATE: I made a few small changes to this chapter recently, nothing in terms of plot, I just added more detailed descriptions of the dinner guests and how they behaved while they at the party because after reading this chapter over again, I thought the descriptions were somewhat abrupt. _

* * *

**Chapter three: ****A Day of Rest?**

My eyes slowly creaked open. I was vaguely aware of a throbbing sensation in the back of my head. I blinked twice as the room around me came into focus. I was lying flat on my back, a small stack of pillows propped up my feet. I could hear voices coming from nearby,

"Yes, she's been out for fifteen minutes. Is she going to be okay Doc?"

"I don't know Miss Cummings; I'll have to take a look at her."

"Vikki?" I asked, sitting up.

Vikki and a tall thin man who I didn't recognize walked into the room.

"Sarah!" Cried Vikki, rushing over to me, "are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine, what happened?"

"You fainted!" she replied, "You really don't remember?"

I nearly gasped as it all came flooding back. The Riddler, the suit, the Rubik's cube…_shit_…

"Good evening Miss Valens." Said the man pleasantly, "my name is Dr. Roth, how are you feeling?"

"Better, thanks." I replied, sitting up straight.

"Do you feel lightheaded or dizzy?" He asked,

"A little" I replied.

"Are you on any medication?"

"Just pain pills, for my migraines" I replied.

Dr. Roth nodded and pulled a light out of his pocket, shining it next to my face. "Follow this with your eyes, please" he moved the light across my line of vision; I followed it as best I could. He nodded, "good news; you're not concussed." He pocketed his light, "when you fainted, were you feeling dizzy, or sick?"

"Yes" I replied, which was not entirely a lie.

"You probably have a twenty-for hour bug, it shouldn't be anything to worry about. I recommend having a full day of rest tomorrow. If this happens again, call me immediately." He stood up and walked to the door, "well, if that's everything I'll be going now."

"Thank you, Doctor." I replied as Roth shut the door behind him.

Vikki looked at me, "well, you heard the Doctor, time for bed."

"You don't have to tell me twice," I replied standing up, "'night Vikki."

I walked into my room and shut the door. I dejectedly fell onto the bed, letting out a small sigh as I did so. _This is a fine mess you've gotten yourself into, Sarah! _I thought, _why didn't you quit when Mr. Peabody told you to sew a green custom suit? _I groaned; there was no use trying to undo it; I was just going to have to get used to the fact that I had helped to disguise a felon. _Well, it can't really be called a disguise, can it? _I thought, _the Riddler's identity is on public record, anyone can find it out. _Not bothering to change, I snuggled under the covers and squeezed my eyes shut. The fuzzy blanket did nothing to comfort me, not now. I kept telling myself that as long as I kept my big mouth shut, I would never see or hear from Edward Nigma again, it was cold comfort but it helped a little. I slowly drifted into an uneasy sleep, thinking with a roll of nausea that somewhere across Gotham, the Riddler was probably just waking up.

…

_Beep, beep, beep, beep, beep! _My eyes shot open,

"Vikki!" I shouted, "Vikki, what's happening?"

I scrambled out of bed, imagining all the things that could be happening to her, and rushed into the kitchen to find Vikki standing over a stove with a smoking pile of mush sat on a black griddle. "I was trying to make pancakes and this happened!" She said, panicking, "what do I do?"

"Well, turn the stove off for starters!" I shouted, flabbergasted, I grabbed the small black nob and turned it, switching the stove off. The smoke gradually died down until all that was left was the smell. I groaned, "You do know the doctor said I should rest today, right?" I cried, the two of us stared at each other for a few moments. Vikki's lips twitched, a grin spread across our faces, and finally we burst out laughing. "Sarah! You know I can't cook!" She laughed,

"I know Vikki, I know!" I laughed, slowly our laughter died down to giggles. "Ha…thanks, it's been a long time since I had a good laugh like that." I said, smiling genuinely.

"You're welcome" said Vikki, "and now, you should rest, Doctor's orders. I'll go fetch us breakfast sandwiches from Subway; you have sausage and egg on flatbread, right?"

"Yeah" I replied, "thanks."

"Okay, see you later!" said Vikki, taking her coat out of the closet and rushing out.

As the door shut a chill ran up my spine; I was alone, completely alone. Not that Vikki could have done much good if the Riddler decided to sic one of his grunts on me, but it was reassuring to have someone else there. _Calm down, Sarah _I thought, _you haven't done anything wrong, the Riddler can be reasoned with, we don't have anything to worry about. _

_Crack! _I gave out a little yelp and wheeled around to see where the noise had come from, and found myself looking at my bedroom door. I cautiously proceeded slowly towards my room; I eyed the empty, plastic flower vase on the table next to the door and grabbed it. It wasn't much, but it was a little protection. I opened the door and peered inside, "hello?" I called; no response. I looked around the room, there was no one there. I looked at the window and saw that it had been blown open. I blushed red with embarrassment; _you're behaving like a ninny, Sarah! _I thought, slamming the window shut, _you can't let once stupid incident take control of your life like this!_

The front door slammed open, "breakfast!" Shouted Vikki, strutting into the room, I walked back into the living room and placed the vase on the table as discreetly as possible; Vikki didn't seem to notice. She placed a drink tray and a white paper bag on the table. "Black coffee, sausage and egg; just the way you like it. Will that be all ma'am?" She said with a mocking bow of the head.

"Yes, yes, you may run along now" I joked, opening my sandwich and taking a bite out of it.

"I'm going to have to finish quickly" said Vikki, "I have to go to work today, but only until two! We could do something fun later!"

"Like?"

"How about we go window shopping down town?" She checked her watch "crap! I'm late!" She rushed to the door and began to gather her stuff for the day.

"Sounds like fun." I replied, standing up from the table.

"Great!" She threw her coat on "see you at 2:00! Ms. Beaumont's going to kill me!" she rushed out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

That same chill ran up my spine, _alone again. _I thought.

…

At around 1:00 a wave of curiosity passed over me. _Who the hell is the Riddler? _I thought, and then, with a small grimace, _do I really want to know? _ I picked up Vikki's black Dell laptop from the table and turned it on, unsurprisingly I found myself typing in the words "Edward Nigma". Dozens of links popped up; links to old newspaper articles, criminal records, and even a fan-site believe it or not. _Okay, _I thought, _but this is it, from now on, no more Riddler. _I clicked on a link to a Gotham Times article titled "Edward Nigma; Evil or Insane?"

Apparently about three years ago there had been a debate as to whether or not the Riddler was actually insane. Most of the Arkham guards and several of the doctors described him as being "calm and collected, if not a bit of a sadist." They believed him to be perfectly sane and as such, believed that he should be transferred to a regular prison rather than an asylum. However, a few other Arkham doctors, as well as psychiatrists who worked outside the asylum, and later a criminologist, argued that leaving riddles which, if solved, told you where to find him when or before he had committed his crimes were not the acts of a sane man. After a brief hearing he was returned to Arkham.

I learned from other articles that he had been a video game developer before becoming a criminal and had created the _Riddle of the Minotaur_ game. I had played that game, only getting through about a third of it; to this day no one had reached the center of the maze. However, he had later been fired for no apparent reason, his first act as a criminal was to kidnap his former boss, Daniel Mockridge. He had left a clue for the Batman to find; "when is the owner of the minotaur as high as an elephant's eye?" The answer was, "when Mockridge is in the maze" maize being another word for corn. Batman outsmarted him and saved Mockridge's life, but the Riddler had long since fled. An image of his costume after it had been processed at Arkham the first time he had been arrested had been included under his mug shot. It had been a lighter shade of green then _I wonder what poor slob tailored that one?_ I thought with a nervous giggle.

After researching him for what didn't feel like a long time, I looked up at the clock and realized that three hours had passed, _4:00! _I thought, _wasn't Vikki supposed to be finished with work by 2:00? _

Concerned, I picked up the phone and dialed the number of the Ridgewood, the hotel where Vikki worked. A high pitched, male voice answered the phone. "This is the Ridgewood, my name is Louis how may I help you?"

"Hi, my name is Sarah Valens; I'm looking for one of your employees, Vikki Cummings?"

"I'm sorry, but Miss Cummings is very busy at the moment and…"

"No I'm not!" shouted a voice in the background, "gimme the phone, Louie!"

"Vikki-"I heard the sound of a phone being wrenched away.

"Hello?" Asked Vikki,

"Hi Vikki"

"Oh, hey Sarah!" she said "I'm so sorry, I meant to call you! We're having a really busy night here and I probably won't be able to get home until 5:00; you want to dial up a movie when I get home?"

"Okay" I sighed,

"Great!" I could barely perceive a shrieking, female voice somewhere in the hotel, "oops! I have to go! Bye!" She hung up before I could reply.

...

The next morning I left the house and returned to work to find Mr. Peabody and a short woman laughing at the front desk.

The door creaked open and they immediately looked up at me. "Sarah, my girl!" shouted Mr. Peabody gleefully, "how're you feeling?"

"Much better, thanks." I replied,

"So, this is the famous Sarah." Said the redhead, standing up, "I'm Dahlia, Roscoe's wife; I've heard so much about you" she said, extending her hand to me. "Oh, you have?" I asked, shaking her hand, "it's a pleasure to meet you Mrs. Peabody." _Wife number eight, _I thought, _I hope this one works out. _Dahlia was sickly pale, and thin to the point of looking emaciated. Her flat-ironed red hair hung just below her shoulder blades, she wore bright lime green contacts and red lipstick.

"Please darling" she said, a toothy grin spreading across her face, "Mrs. Peabody is my mother-in-law; just call me Dahlia!" Her voice was airy and low pitched; it probably was supposed to sound sexy but it just sounded nasal to me.

I thought. "Alright, M-, _Dahlia" _

"I think we'll get along just fine Roscoe." She beamed,

"Well, in that case" said Mr. Peabody, he looked at me. "Sarah, how would you like to accompany me to a party at the Lockwood tonight? My colleagues want to meet you."

"Say what?" I asked,

"I can't go," sighed Dahlia, "previous engagement; so we thought we'd give you my ticket!"

"Why would your colleagues want to meet me?" I asked, knowing that his colleagues might very well be other dangerous men.

"They want to see if you're everything you're cracked up to be, of course!" He said,

"Everything I'm cracked up to be?" I asked, my face paled "Have you-"

"But you'll need a nice dress; why don't you and Dahlia look through the racks?"

"Okay!" Dahlia grabbed me by the wrist and dragged me towards the dress section of the store. I winced; waifish as she was, she had a strong grip. She rummaged through the racks and tossed me a slinky, cornflower blue dress with bell sleeves and a cinched waist. "Try this on!" I squinted at the dress for a moment, and stepped into the changing room.

"Uh…Dahlia?" I asked from behind the door, trying to say anything I could to get out of going to this party, "aren't you concerned about leaving your husband with another woman?"

Dahlia laughed heartily, "no, sweetie! Our relationship isn't like that!"

"…Really?" I muttered, _explains why they're still married, _I thought before walking out of the changing room in the dress.

Dahlia shook her head, "cornflower is definitely not your color, honey." She took a magenta dress from a nearby rack; it looked as if it would barely cover my rear end "it's too small!" I objected,

"Just try it!"

I sighed; I knew this was going to be a long afternoon.

...

I honestly didn't think I was going to survive that night.

I found myself wearing more makeup than I ever had in my life; bright pink blush on both cheeks, red lipstick, and fake eyelashes which made my eyes look like they had giant black fans over them. The dress Dahlia had finally picked out was short, green and covered with sequins, as well as a pair of six inch black heels; I thought I looked like a walking shrub. "Green's your color darling!" Dahlia had insisted. Mr. Peabody had left Hallward's early, so Dahlia had driven me to the party on the way to her "previous engagement;" whatever that was.

"Here we are, dear!" She said, as we pulled up outside the Lockwood. "You have fun, oh, and by the way, Jermaine Carlyle is going to be there, he's so dreamy! And he's _single!" _she raised her eyebrows expectantly before shutting the door and driving away.

I took a deep breath and walked through the gold doors of the building. I stood at the door and gasped, instantly overwhelmed. Two ivory pillars stretched from floor to ceiling in the center of the room, the walls were a beautiful shade of cream with silver appliques, the floors were made of glistening white linoleum. On either side of the door were the tallest blue hyacinths I had ever seen, it was without a doubt the most beautiful hotel in Gotham.

At the back of the room there was a dining area, most of the tables were roped off with a red, velvet cord; a sign labeled "Private Party" hung from one of the ropes. I assumed that was where I had to go, so I crossed the room to the ropes. A tall, bulky man stood near the sign, I knew almost immediately that he was the bouncer. "Name please?" He grunted,

"Hi, I'm Sarah Valens; I'm here with Roscoe Peabody?"

He pulled a paper out of his pocket and unfolded it, "I'm afraid you're not on the list, Miss Valens."

"Oh, Mr. Peabody's wife couldn't make it, so he asked me to come along just today, it was very sudden…" I hastily replied,

"You're not. On. The list, Miss Valens" said the guard, "I'm afraid I can't-"

"Let her in, Victor." Called a voice, the two of us wheeled around.

"Mr. Carlyle" grunted Victor, staring down at his shoes. Carlyle was a thin man with short brown hair and big, alarmingly bright, blue eyes, he wore a black tuxedo and a white tie; I was so unaccustomed to seeing men like this that I admittedly felt a little intimidated. "Miss Valens is indeed a guest of mine, I'm afraid I didn't have time to put her on the guest list."

"Alright" said Victor, moving the rope aside for me.

"Thank you" I muttered hastily, walking into the reserved area.

"No, no, it's my fault" he said with a smile, "I should have added your name to the guest list, slipped my mind."

"That's okay" I replied, "the decision was very last minute."

"True" he extended his hand to me, "Jermaine Carlyle, it's a pleasure to meet you Sarah."

I shook his hand, "it's nice to meet you too, Mr. Carlyle."

"Please, call me Jermaine." He said with a cheeky grin, "Roscoe is over here, follow me." I nodded and followed him, weaving in and out between the tables to a small group of people chatting. "Roscoe!" Called Jermaine, "I believe you've lost someone!"

Mr. Peabody looked up from his champagne and beamed, "Sarah, my girl!" He called, "you look lovely."

"Thank you, sir." I replied quickly,

"Sarah, these are Jason and Olivia Browning," he gestured to a portly, gray-haired man and a plump brunette woman. Mrs. Browning smiled slightly at me while Mr. Browning barely acknowledged my existence. "Richard Archer" Peabody nodded at the long-haired blonde man standing next to Mr. Browning. He wore a black tuxedo with the collar turned straight up, on his left ear was a small stud and a thin scar ran up his jaw. He eerily smirked at me from his place next to Mr. Browning, "and of course, you've met our host, Jermaine Carlyle."

"So this is the famous Sarah" remarked Mrs. Browning "we've heard so much about you."

"I'm…flattered." I said quietly,

"There's no need to act like a timid mouse" laughed the woman, "we don't bite." _Are you sure about that? _I thought, stealing a glance at Mr. Archer, who continued to smirk.

"Well" said Jermaine, "why don't we sit down? Dinner should be served shortly."

Murmurs of agreement ran through the group, Jermaine gestured to a table in the center of the room. We followed him to a table in the center of the room and each sat down, I took the place marked "Dahlia Peabody," Jermaine sat to my right, and Mr. Peabody sat to my left.

The group mostly spoke about various "business deals" in Gotham which I didn't understand fully, but could tell from their slightly hushed voices were nothing legitimate. About fifteen minutes later, steaming plates of fish were placed in front of us, I tried not to grimace, I had never liked fish but I wanted to be polite. "So, Sarah?" Asked Mr. Archer, running a finger around the rim of his wine glass, "what's your job like?"

"What, doing alterations?" I laughed, "It's a living."

"No, not that," He bent over slightly, "your…_side job_?" He whispered, grinning as if he had just told a rude joke.

I almost choked, "you know about that?" I asked,

"Of course we do, we all do!" Laughed Jermaine, "it's ah... the talk of the table."

_Crap… Peabody, you idiot! _

"So, what's he like?" Asked Mrs. Browning, "Did he ask you any of his famous riddles?"

"Y-yeah" I replied, feeling a deep sensation of dread sneak up on me, I took a sip of wine, trying to act normal.

"What did he say?" Pressed Mrs. Browning,

"Uh, I was carved by a man who doesn't need me…" I felt very faint,

"Are you alright Sarah?" Asked Jermaine,

"Um, I don't feel so well," I said, slowly standing from the table "I think I had better go home, may I be excused?"

"Oh, dear, let me call you a cab!" Offered Mr. Browning,

"Thanks, that's very kind of you…" I replied placing a hand to my forehead, _I'm not going to pass out; I'm not going to pass out, _I thought, repeating it to myself over and over again.

Mr. Browning got up from the table, "you sit down." He walked to the back of the room, picked up a white phone and dialed; he quickly muttered something into the phone and came back to the table. "They'll be here in five minutes,"

"Thanks" I said standing from the table, "I'm really sorry to pop out like this…"

Replies of "that's okay" and "It's alright" and "feel better soon," ran across the table.

"Here, I'll walk you out" said Jermaine, offering me his arm.

"Thanks."

Jermaine guided me past the tables, hurriedly muttering "excuse me" and "coming through" as we passed.

We walked back through the doors and waited outside in the old snow. He took off his jacket and handed it to me, "here" he said, "it's no wonder you're ill; it's cold out, and that's not much of a coat."

I muttered my thanks as I wrapped the jacket around my shoulders.

"When did you start working for Roscoe?" He asked,

"About a year ago" I replied, trying with all my might not to fall over. "I had enjoyed sewing for a long time and I was pretty good at it, I guess that was enough for my boss." I looked at him, "what do you do for a living?"

Jermaine looked off into space, as if thinking about it, "I'm a…stockbroker." He slowly replied,

_Right. _

"Ah, here's your cab!" Said Jermaine as the yellow car pulled up in front of us, "feel better, Sarah."  
I took off his jacket and handed it to him "thanks Jermaine." I said, sliding into the backseat of the cab and shutting the door.

"Beckham apartments, please" I groaned.

The car turned around and drove down the street, making a hard left at the first light and heading down McLaughlin Street.

"Uh, sir?" I asked, "We're going in the wrong direction."

The driver didn't respond, "sir, I said we're going in the wrong direction; stop the car."

He still didn't respond, "Sir!" I put a hand on his arm and his hand fell limply off the wheel. "Huh?" He wasn't the one driving the car. I picked up his arm and pulled off the black glove, the hand underneath was beige plastic.

"A mannequin…" I breathed,

"Always pays to give things a second look, doesn't it Sarah?" Said a familiar, smug voice through the radio speakers,

I gasped, _click, _all four doors locked, a hissing sound filled the back seat as gas flooded the car. I shrieked and sputtered, pounding on the doors but it was no use. My eyes unwillingly shut, my head fell onto the seat next to me and everything went dark.

* * *

**Yes! This next part is what I've really been looking forward to writing so far!**

**I know this wasn't the most exciting chapter, but it's necessary for the rest of the story.**

**Constructive criticism is...you know what? I won't say it, you all know the drill! Thanks for reading!**


	4. Chapter 4: Cat Out Of the Bag

_Hi everyone! _

_Sorry it's been a while, but I've been SO busy (tests)! But I finally managed to finish this chapter; be warned, this is where the story starts to get a little stranger than it has been (but what do you expect? Sarah tailors costumes for super villains, there's no way she has a normal life). _

_Anyway, here we go!_

* * *

**Chapter four: Cat Out Of the Bag**

My eyelids felt as if they weighed a hundred pounds, I struggled to open them. I blinked the sweat from my eyes and looked around. I was lying on a cold, dirty floor; it was so dark that I could barely see two feet in front of me. I tried to sit up and ended up hitting my head on the low ceiling; I could feel a bruise forming there. From what I could tell I was in some sort of crawl space, or maybe in some sort of cellar. Not knowing what else to do, I hunkered down and crawled forward on all fours, looking for an exit. After crawling along for a few minutes I saw a chink of light; it was small, but it was there.

I scrambled forward, feeling my exposed thigh graze a sharp object on the floor. I winced sharply and continued to crawl, this time being more careful. I finally reached the end of the hallway and found a hatch, slightly askew and letting in a chink of light. I threw open the hatch and crawled through the opening into a small room. From what I could tell by looking around I was in some sort of living room, a green and purple living room. A frayed green sofa sat in the center of the room along with a rocking chair and an equally green standing lamp. There was a small, lime green table with a white telephone on it, the wall paper was green and covered with little black question marks. I gingerly stood up and observed the gash on my thigh, a small amount of blood trickled down my leg but it didn't look that deep. _Is this Edward Nigma's house?_ I thought, feeling my heart race. I rushed to the door at the end of the room; I reached for the doorknob, and found that it was electrified. I shrieked with pain, drawing my hand back as quickly as I could. I knew that I could pull the latches back on the window and open it. _The window latches are probably electrified as well, _I thought. I looked around the room, _what to use what_ _to use_? I spotted the rocking chair in the corner, it was made of wood.

I ran over to it and turned it over, yanking at one of the legs as hard as I could, "come on, budge!"I growled, desperately tugging at the limb of the chair, I tugged and clawed desperately until finally the limb broke away. Getting a running start, I charged at the window and swung the cylindrical piece of wood at the heavily reinforced glass, _bzzt! Bzzt! Bzzt! _The electrified window latch shrieked angrily as I whaled on the window pane; try as I might it would barely even crack. I screamed with fury, striking the window again and again. _Crack! _The piece of wood broke in two; one piece went flying behind me and hit the back wall. The window hadn't even dented.

I stood there for what felt like ages, the only sound in the room was my heavy breathing. Tears of frustration and terror ran down my cheeks,_ he really wants to keep me here. _I thought, _I'm going to die here, aren't I? _I am not ashamed to admit that I bawled. I wasn't brave back then, and even so, I was in a terrible situation. The shock of what had happened to me added to my fear and hopelessness. Amidst my profuse crying, I made out a high-pitched noise in the background. After a few seconds I stopped wailing and listened to the sound. It was the phone, _the phone's ringing_. I turned around and saw the white cordless phone vibrating in the receiver. _Am I supposed to answer it? _I thought. I shrugged hopelessly _what the hell? _I walked over to the hand set and picked up the phone.

"Hello?" I asked,

"I don't take kindly to you destroying my property Sarah."

"Riddler…" I breathed,

"Hello again," he said cordially,

I could almost see the grin forming on his face, "where am I?" I snarled,

"My, my, you see, but you do not observe," he snickered, "look out that window you tried to break."

Clutching the phone in my right hand, I walked to the window and peered out. My eyes widened, I was staring down McLaughlin Street, a green, warped version of McLaughlin Street. Leon's Grocery Store was right across the street, except the windows had been broken and rotten fruit sat in the stalls outside. Next to it was what I assumed was a Laundromat, but the structure had nearly collapsed, and rusty washer-driers were visible through the cracks; graffiti covered most of the buildings. It was like looking at a post-apocalyptic version of Gotham, through night vision goggles.

"Welcome to my little Gotham" said the Riddler "complete with taxi service."

"You have a replica of Gotham just, tucked away somewhere?" I asked, wondering where he could possibly hide something like that.

"Well, all of Gotham between 23rd Street and Dennison Avenue" he replied, "with a few improvements of my own" he quietly added,

"Why have you brought me here?" I demanded, "I did what you wanted, I didn't tell ANYONE about our 'exchange'; not my best friend, not the cops, no one!"

"No you didn't" he replied bluntly, "you're very good at keeping secrets, your boss isn't."

My eyes widened, _Peabody… _"Then why have you kidnapped _me_?"

"I'm surprised you haven't figured that one out on your own," he replied, "he had so much faith in you that I decided to see if you're everything he claims. You should have heard him gush about you; he claims you're 'brilliant' 'wonderful' 'going to make him a rich man!' Well, if you're really as brilliant as he makes you out to be, then saving his life should be no trouble, should it?"

"Yeah, Peabody's a bigwig; he blabbed! That's not my f-"I stopped short "_save his life?" _I breathed.

"Yes, you heard me correctly. You see, I have your boss strapped to an electric chair somewhere in this place, this 'Riddler's Gotham' shall we say. In order to save him, you must solve various puzzles. They could be anywhere in the city. Each puzzle will give you a clue as to where he is, if you solve the puzzle and find every clue you should be able to find him."

"Okay" I replied with a slight nod.

"Oh and one more thing; I _don't like cheaters." _He seethed, "next to my hand is a red button which triggers the chair, rest assured that I alone have access to it. If you fail, _or _cheat, I press the button and Roscoe here receives 2,000 volts of electricity, enough to kill a human being, for your trouble. Are we clear?"

"Crystal" I winced, "how long do I have?"

"Let's see, the time is 12:54 AM, you have until 2:00 AM to find him, which gives you… a little over an hour."

"An hour!?" I gasped,

"An hour" he repeated, "I believe that it's more than fair as I could finish this challenge in less than twenty minutes."

Too scared to be offended, I took a deep breath and replied, "Alright, now what's my first puzzle?"

"Simple." He replied, "Escape this room!"

_Escape the room! _I thought angrily, _isn't that what I was just trying to do?_

"…But as that was probably your first instinct anyway, I thought I'd add an extra incentive."

_Whoop! _A sharp, sucking sound rang out through the room. I cried with alarm as freezing water poured through the crawl space I had just been in and raced across the floor, placing a thin layer across all of it in a few seconds. "Oh dear, it appears we're taking on water!" Mocked Nigma clearly pleased with himself. "Good luck, I'll be watching!" The phone went dead.

I slammed the phone onto the receiver, I ran up to the door and slammed into the wood of it with my entire right side; the door creaked but didn't even come close to breaking open. I tried again, and again, to no avail. _No, brute force isn't the answer here. _The water was over my toes now. I pressed my body against the wall and patted down each wall of the room closely, looking for any hidden object; my finger caught a tiny gold tab on the wall, I instinctively pulled on it, yanking the cord out of the wall;

Big mistake.

_Shmmmp! _The water began to pour into the room faster than before; it had climbed up to my thighs and continued to rise. I cursed myself, _no, a hidden compartment? That's too easy! _I looked around the room; _where else could someone hide something?_ I pulled the pillows off of the sofa and tore them apart, only to find plain white feathers, nothing that could help me. I did the same with the armchair to no avail. The water was circling around my torso now, I glanced frantically around the room; _I've checked all the furniture, where else to look?_ My eyes fell on the standing lamp; I realized that it hadn't been giving off any light, and lacked a plug. I pulled the lampshade off revealing an incandescent light bulb, but I could tell that there was something off about it. I unscrewed the light bulb, raised it over my head and smashed it against the wall. Amidst the bits of shattered glass I saw a thin, wooden object where the filaments should have been. "A key!" I called out triumphantly, the water circled around my abdomen, I looked at the door, _how am I going to fit the key inside if the door handle is electrified? _I thought hard, _wood doesn't conduct electricity… _

I screwed the key back into place where the filaments should have been, fit the key in the lock and turned, praying that the door would open. _Click. _The water stopped rising, I smiled triumphantly. Not willing to risk shocking myself again, I lifted my right leg and kicked the door open, water rushed past me, flowing out the door and onto the street below. I leaned against the door frame, breathing heavily and shivering from the cold. _Brrring! _I looked back into the room, but there was no way that the phone in there was still working. I looked down at the sidewalk below and saw a payphone standing in front of the fence which surrounded the house. I raced down the walkway and picked up the phone, "yes?"

"Wonderful, you escaped the room without drowning _and _you watered the lawn, how kind of you!"

"You son of a bitch! When I get my hands on you, I swear I'll hit you so hard that you won't even remember why the chicken crossed the road!"

-Is what I wanted to say, but instead I quietly asked, "What do I do now?"

"Go to the place where it all began; you have 58 minutes." The phone went dead.

I put the phone back on the receiver. _Where it all began? _I rolled my eyes, _Hallward's._

I looked up at the street sign; I was at the intersection of Kellerman Boulevard and Dennison Avenue. If this were an accurate representation of Gotham, at least building-wise, I would be about four city blocks away from Hallward's. I sighed; I didn't like Peabody at all after what he did, but I didn't want him to die. I turned like a marionette with a string cut, and proceeded down the street, eyes peeled for any sign of trouble. Just as I reached the end of Dennison Avenue, two metal gates swung open and blocked the entire street. I yelped with surprise and jumped back, as soon as I had caught my breath, I groaned. There was only one other road that I could take to get to Hallward's, but that was Cottonwood Street, which was the first left off of Kellerman Boulevard and, as the replica ended at Kellerman, meant it wouldn't be in the replica; this was the only way there. _I guess I could climb over the wall…_ I thought, _but that would be cheating… _"Alright Nigma, how do you expect me to get there now?!" I shouted to the heavens.

There was no response and I didn't expect there to be. My eyes landed on a small screen on the left side of the metal wall. I walked up to it and tapped it twice, it buzzed and came to life, and green letters appeared on the screen.

_Every day I stalk you all day long,_

_ With every move you make, I never make one wrong._

_ I vanish twice a day with the sun's height and fall,_

_ I will follow you anywhere,_

_ Even the bathroom stall._

_What am I?_

A small chill ran up my spine, _creepy riddle… _I thought. I paced back and forth, thinking hard. Another set of words flashed on the screen;

_49 Minutes! _


End file.
